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cAwakenings 

"With 

In Athens 

By 
The Rev. Charles Josiah Adams. DJD. 

oAntbor of 

DIThere Is Ify Doe; or. I* Man Alone Imm o rtal ? 
TheRacii«Panoa; or. Haw BaUr 'WTao 
tike Ooonty Seat. RobertG.Iae 
et aL, and tbe Clencal Attbe. ] 
and dlier ; 



NewToric 

J. S. Ogflvie Pablishing CompBiiy 
57 Rose Street 











cAwakenings 


. 




With 






In Athens 






By 






The Rev. Charles Josiah Adams, D.D. 






cAuthor of 






Where Is My Dog; or, Is Man Alone Immortal? 






The Racing Parson; or, How Baldy ^Von 






the County Seat. Robert G. Ingersoll, 






et al., and the Clerical Attire, Etc. 






Reprieve and Other Poems. 






Hope Undeferred, 






Etc., Etc. 






Copyright, 1917 






BY Charles Josiah Adams 






New York 






J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company 






57 Rose Street 








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To THE Rt. Rev. David Hummell Greer, D.D., LL.D., 

The Bishop of New York, 

In Appreciation of his Greatness of Heart, Grasp op 
Mind and Literary Acumen, 

I Respectfully Dedicate 

AWAKENINGS, 

In Which I Have, Lispingly, Attempted to Make 

Reference to 

Things Unutterable. 



AN OPENING WORD. 

I WAS sorely tempted to call the following poem Old 
Joe. I was deterred by the thought that it should have 
a, possibly, more dignified title. So I have christened 
it Awakenings. To the human Subject there are three 
essential awakenings. These are — that to environment 
— that to Self — that to the Fourth Dimension. That 
the lower-animal shares the first of these with the human 
is questioned by none. As to the second, in this regard, 
there are those who doubt. The third? Is there' a 
Fourth Dimension of matter ? Of this dimension I made 
much in a former poem — Hope Undef erred. Comments 
on this are still coming — to my great satisfaction. Most of 
them are favorable. Some are non-committal. Two have 
been unfavorable. A clergyman writes: *'A Fourth 
Dimension is one too many for me to understand ! " A 
layman: ''Doctor Adams: How dare you write such 
rot?" Another clergyman is very complimentary, in- 
cluding the sentiment that it must have taken "infinite 
bravery" on my part to write a poem on the Fourth 
Dimension. An Ecclesiastical Dignitarj'', in a conversa- 
tion, was disposed to consider length, breadth and thick- 
ness enough dimensions, until I quoted St. Paul : " I knew 
a man in Christ above fourteen years ago, ("Whether in 
the body, I cannot tell ; or whether out of the body, I 
cannot tell : God knoweth ; ) such an one caught up into 
the third heaven. And I knew such a man, (whether in 
the body or out of the body, I cannot tell: God know- 
eth;) how that he was caught up into paradise, and 
heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a 
man to utter." The dignitary admitted that one is 
liable to be misunderstood — meaning me, not St. Paul — 

5 



6 AN OPENING WORD 

though St. Peter found in ''our beloved brother Paul's" 
epistles ''some things hard to be understood." If there 
be not more than three dimensions of matter how is 
Immortality a possibility? Who can say how many 
dimensions of matter there may be? St. Paul must 
have known at least six — length, breadth and thickness 
and the three heavens — "paradise" and the two 
through which he passed to get /there. May I add that 
I have received nothing but praise in relation to the 
manner in which I have done myjwork.* Do not those 
who speak of writing simply for entertainment speak 
thoughtlessly? Can that which is empty entertain? It 
takes a large soul to be patient with a content with 
which he is not in agreement. There are souls capable 
of such patience. For them I sing — hoping that through 
patience they may receive the light of the Largest 
Truth — the Truth which was revealed through the 
Transfiguration, the Resurrection, the Ascension — 
through the Teaching, the Doings, the Living of the 
Divine Master — the Truth of the Fourth Dimension — ^to 
so put it. Put it in any way ! But let us see that it is 
put! The larger our vocabulary the larger are we! 
And the more we reach ! Some such thought must have 
been in the mind of St. John when he adopted the word 
Logos! The "blind" have been leading the "blind," 
and the world has "fallen" into the trenches and the 
shell-holes ! 



Charles Josiah Adams. 



St. Luke's Church, 
Rossville, 

Staten Island, 
N. Y. 
Thanksgiving Day, 1917. 



*See advertisement of Hope Undeferred at dose of this book- 
let. The Publisher. 



AWAKENINGS. 

An Epic. 

Dost thou remember thine awakening 
To thine environment, which theretofore 
Was felt, perceiving not, who lendest ear 
To what, in loving hopefulness, I sing? . . . 

One tells me his was through a scolding nurse, 
She bending, frowning, o'er his trundlebed; 
Another, his was through a toy-balloon, 
The string to which his chubby hand escaped ; 
Another, through a workman's noisy rage. 
In inability to find his pipe; 
Another . . . May it not be held as true. 
That first of all things in the memory — 
The thing which stirred the Subject's Consciousness- 
Was non-important, triviality? — 
Not always ! — For another tells me that , 
His first remembrance is of eyes awide, 
Of faces white, of troubled breathings, of 
A rattle and a rumble, close at hand. 
For near where he was brooded then, the men 
In blue and those in gray fought Gettysburgh; 
Another, of a mother 's healing kiss ; 
Another . . . But Our Subject to the fore! . . • 

Orphaned paternally in infancy, 
The mother's father took his father's place, 
And, wanting that the child should come to be 
A hoy, as, afterwards, the boy a man, 
Submitted him to faithful care, and what 
Was thought the proper — not a nurse, 

7 



8 AWAKENINGS 

When he could toddle, but a faithful black- 
When he could walk, the black supplanted by 
A creature, only apprehended of 
The heart and penetrating mind of one 
Of spirit deep and elevate and wide — 
A white, bow-legged, undershotten dog — 
An English bull — his ugliness intense 
His beauty — save his eyes intelligent, 
Dependable and fathomless in love — 
Old Joe — a canine genius! — He could see 
A dozen horses — halter-straps detached — 
To watering and back, and each to stall 
To which the each belonged — through nipping heels. 
If necessary, or through headings off. 
Or roundings up — as competently as 
Could Uncle Dave, the ebon stable-man 
And coachman through the lapse of fifty years — 
The one Our Subject apt to have in care, 
Old Joe abroad on some light dalliance, 
Or injured in a conflict with the might 
Of hate-inspired Verhilndenten — the one 
He met in all his life no match for him ! — - 
Or as could Niggah George — so called by those 
As black as he — whose what-he-had-of-mind 
Of moral warp — whose company, asly, 
Avoided not Our Subject as he grew — 
To whom he owes vocabulary germs. 
Which, early sprouting, still are vigorous, 
Still bother him, as yet they shed their fruit, 
At times, fruit non-ecclesiastical — 

From whom he learned to ' ' chaw ' ' and smoke and — well, 
Some other things, held — not exactly right! . , . 

In land of horsemen on the public ways — 

Of horsemen, turning up or passing down 

Green lanes, which to sequestered mansions led. . . . 

In one of these Our Subject and Old Joe, 

From mansion headed, meeting, t 'wards it faced, 

A neighbor, on a splendid blooded-mare, 

Smiling, in wondering within him what 



AWAKENINGS 

Old Joe would do, the mare so managed that 

His Charge appeared in danger from her hoofs. — 

The trial made, the answer came — at once ! — 

The rider sprawling in a corner of 

A stake-and-rider fence, his mount to knees, 

To nose, to side, emitting sounds to chill 

The blood, Joe's teeth within her jugular. . . . 

This scene at very foot of vista long 

Of clear and troubled memories which please 

Or pain The Subject of this hurried song. . . . 

To this, sensation, with attention slight — 

From this, perception, of expanding scope : 

Old Joe, in beauty of his ugliness, 

Fidelity and bravery enfleshed. 

With something more than instinct, certainly; 

The mother, of a stately queenliness. 

But mother — fluttering anxiety; 

Her father — model to her son — the sum 

Of all the strong and manly, and serene, 

Till stirred by insult : then a trigger haired — 

Or by a tale of woe : a fountain rich— 

By any over-riding of the weak: 

A flash of lightning, driving to the mark — 

By any intimation, might is right — 

A very Aetna in eruption, then ! — 

A man to pray assaultingly the Throne, 

To swear, to rattling of the gates of Hell I — 

The bully of the school — incarnate '^ bluff,'* 

Who needed but a promptitude of ''call," 

Or, better : ' ' Making good, with nothing said ! ' ' — 

Grandfatherly advice — in showing how: 

''No biting, scratching, kicking, pulling hair, 

*'But seeing where you'd hit, and hitting hard, 

"With nature-furnished weapon — close-shut fist!*' 

And lesser persons : — Now a cardinal, 

On winter morning, in an evergreen, 

The snow from branches sifting powderly. 

The tout ensemble like a Christmas cardj 

And, now, a redbreast, on a slender branch, 



10 AWAKENINGS 

Across a woodway, cooking to the Spring, 

Smiling, as frowning Winter went away ; 

And, now, the bricky-breasted bluebird, in 

According gentleness of flight and song; 

And now the goldfinch, undulating high 

In sunny air, with its per-chick-er-ee; 

And, now, the hosts of grackles, chattering 

In heavy forests, which the meadows fringe ; 

And now the hooting owl, on moonlit night ; 

And, now, in distant gorge, disturbing cry — 

The catamount — ahungered, or ayearn; 

And, now, throughout the fervent summer-day, 

The red-eyed vireo was preaching in 

The trees on lawn and at the orchard 's edge ; 

And, now, from thicket, by the lonely lane. 

His cranky, white-eyed cousin wants to know: 

**And why are you, you son of Adam, here?" — 

And now a negro chopping wood, afar, 

Upon a hillside slanting from the dale, 

A glint of sunshine on the rising blade. 

Following that upon its falling, ere 

Keport of contact with the log is heard. 

On morning, clear as first of Paradise ; 

And, now, the brier blooming o'er the porch — 

A something like a personality — 

Each person manifesting passing mood. 

Or fixed, of God, defined, or undefined — 

As did, to him, the things impersonal — 

Awaking feelings as profound, as wide, 

As high, as are the reaches of Infinitude. — 

Because of their impersonality? — 

The concrete circumscribed, the abstract not — 

Each charactering feeling it awakes, — 

How many these impersonalities! — 

The little brook which babbled through the glen 

In sunny weather, with its tiny pools, 

To be arimpled by the bended pin. 

With falls, appropriate for flutter-wheel, 

Now swollen, by a recent burst of cloud, 

To frightful torrent, as impressive as. 



AWAKENINGS 11 

In later years, the rushing of the Visp, 

Or hurry of Niagara to leap, 

Or, leap accomplished, seething through the gorge; 

The thunderstorm — with its electric play, 

Its tones so awful and reverberate — 

To him God's carriage- wheels, the chariot 

Not known as yet, or caisson's heavy crush — 

The clouds, obscurant of the fullest day; 

The moon, serene against the milky -way, , 

Through planets and the constellations still — 

All Nature hushed, to beauty of it all ; 

Uplifting most, the fleecy clouds at noon, 

The winds abroad, in Natures mighty dome ! . . • 

These things appreciated by Old Joe? — 

No more by Uncle Dave, or Niggah George, 

Or Yallah Steve — the aged gardener. 

Who boasted that no 'Sidin' Eldah could 

Convince him that Hereafter is, or God, 

Admitting that Our Subject questions asked, 

Which made appear the Eldah might be right. — 

They each aware of objects seen and heard 

And touched, of some essential properties. 

Why not of beauty, grandeur, 'mong the rest — 

As well as danger in a state of things ? . . , 

Planting potatoes in the plot behind 

The spring-house, at the valley's lowest spot, 

Our Subject following and bothering, 

A flood of questions through his restless lips. 

Upon his arm a little pail of tin, 

Part filled by eye-containing slices, which 

He dropped where Yallah Steve would have them not. 

Of course, and near, Old Joe, as usual, awatch — 

On sultry day — day vaguely menacing 

To one unweatherwise — distinctly so 

To Yallah Steve — whose nerves were not at ease, 

As showed his glancing furtively from work, 

To the horizons, now, and, now, to sky 

Above them, till, at last, the zenith took 

Attention, drawn by whimper from Old Joe, 



12 AWAKENINGS 

Disturbing! — Then, their glances meeting, they 
"Were one, in seeing it was time to go! 
On whose account? — On that of common Charge 
'Twould seem, from each of them regarding him. . . . 

Too late ! . . . A flash ! . . . A crash ! . . . A neighboring, 

Gnarled walnut-tree, in splinters, through the air ! . . . 

A glitter on the pail! . . . With: "A Good Boy!"— 

Its motto — standing boldly out! . . . And then — 

A sudden cramp of all his being! . . . Then 

Oblivion! . . . And then a coming back! . . . 

Seeing his guardians — annihilate? . . . 

And then, again — oblivion! — And then — 

Kenewed perception! . . . From, upon his cheek, 

A something cool — emitting something warm! . . . 

Old Joe was nosing him! . . . And standing by 

Was Yallah Steve — astoop — ^to pick him up! . , . 

He dimly wondering: *' Would I do that? — 

*'0r could I do as much for Yallah Steve?" . . , 

This second waking of the sentient soul— 

To Self — to things subjective — what it means! . . . 

Though one of untold billions, all aswirl. 

Within the reaches of the universe, 

As punkies in the Adirondack swale, 

The Self is something for respect profound, 

For reverence, for love — or for contempt, 

Neglected mighty opportunities. 

Misused, or warped — ^not for indifference ! — 

The only thing, or person, which exists, 

Which knows itself — ^which more than knows itself — 

Which, further, knows it knows it knows itself — 

In sense of sensing — and which may increase 

Its knowledge of itself unendingly 

In this dimension of Infinitude ! — 

So little thing, and yet a thing so great ! — 

Greater than peaks, which it approaches, scales! — 

Than farthest star, which it may spectroscope ! — 

Than constellation it triangulates ! — 

Than the Eternal Heights and Depths and Breadths, 

Which it may top and sound and circumvent, 



AWAKENINGS 13 

In lapse of eons yet untold, unthought ! — 

Of time the centre — through 3xperience, 

Through what 's related, what in print appears ! — 

Center of space, as some it occupies, 

And all the rest about that portion swells! — 

Of matter, too — to its embodiment 

All other forms related — from the grain 

Of sand it brushes, to the farthest sun !— 

And of the sentient — from the gnat which stings 

It, through the woman, man, or child, or dog 

It loves, to messengers and ministers. 

Winging, or ready, in the Realm of God, 

Archangels, Thrones, Dominions, Powers, 'bout 

The Throne, and, nearer, those who've gone before! — 

And as astonishing as greatest else; 

Self, knowing Self, is greater than Itself ! . . . 

Potentialities of Self are these, 

Unheard by Uncle Dave, or Yallah Steve, 

Or Niggah George, or, heard, not understood, 

As by Our Subject unsuspected long. 

Through years of application unexplained ! — 

But was not each of them a Conscious Self? — - 

Old Uncle Dave was pious, and he felt 

Himself to be responsible to God ; 

And godless Yallah Steve pronounced himself 

A hopeless thing, in hollowness of All; 

And Niggah George, in punishment, perceived, 

'Twas, he, Himself, who was the sufferer; 

And Joe, victorious in battle, love,, 

Was he not conscious he. Himself, had won, 

As surely as Our Subject, strutting home, 

Upon a ne'er to be forgotten day. 

Was proudly conscious that 'twas he, Himself, 

Who'd made the bully a humility? . . . 

Can consciousness of outer thing exist 

If not the Inner Something which perceives, 

More than reflection of the same without 

In glass, or other surface which reflects. 

In case of such an one as Uncle Dave, 

Or Yallah Steve, or Niggah George, Old Joe, 



14 AWAKENINGS 

As in the ease of Newton, or St. Paul? — 

And may not any object be perceived, 

Some time, some how, by any sentient soul? — 

Objective only? — The subjectives, too! 

Remembering — a thing to note ! — a Self 's 

Subjectives objects are to other Selves! — 

A Self aware of moods in other Self, 

Why say it does not sense that other Self? — 

In certain of his moods e'en Niggah George 

Let Joe alone — let Joe, Himself, alone ! — 

In certain of his master's moods Old Joe 

Would lick the master's hand, in some refrain — 

Fondling or shirking — ^What? — the master's Self !— 

If Niggah George could sense the other Self, 

Could he not sense Himself? — And as to Joe? . , . 

Each knew the Self which he would near, avoid 1 — 

And must not each have known Himself, as Self, 

Approaching or avoiding other Self? . . . 

The primal inner thing to Self is Self !— 

Then come the powers to development. 

Aggression and protection and — the rest: — 

Of which is Memory — through which retained 

Matters of personal experience. 

And those, in modesty, of other Selves — 

In which the image of perception stays, 

The history, romance, the melody — 

Awakened by suggestion, positive 

Or negative, in time or place, by this 

Or that, or this and that and these combined 

With those, in situation circumstanced — 

In furnishing material for Thought; 

Reason — afoot on dusty ways and hard. 

Crisscrossing, 'twixt the cradle and the grave — ; 

The purblind, stumbling leader in the maze; 

Fancy, aplay in gardens, here and there; 

While better ways Imagination forms. 

And from his feet the weary trav'ler lifts. 

And seats him on the fellow-creature's back, 

Of feet more numerous and greater speed, 



AWAKENINGS 15 

And furnishes the log, the raft, the boat, 

The paddle, then the oars, the sail, the steam — 

Then messenger, developed to endure 

The haste, then mounted for the more intense, 

Then carred or vesseled for the land or sea, 

Then seated by the ticker, which athwart 

A wired continent, and, soon, about 

A cabled world, the message sends, at once — 

The wire, the cable, supplemented by 

Aerials, amasted in the air — 

Or in a fluid which the air involves — 

Which, from another such, on sea or land, 

The message takes, across the spaces vast — 

And broods still deeper problems, intricate: 

The one of interstellar intercourse. 

The one of how the disembodied may. 

Or do, with those in flesh communicate. 

And why, when sleep o'ertakes the mortal frame, 

It revels, suffers, in the Where of Dreams ; 

And Faith — in Self — that Self may yet attain — 

In fellow-mortals — as we yet must speak — 

In Selves of the Supernal, who about 

Are ever hovering, disposed to help — 

In Him, Who is the Author of It All ; 

And Hope, which, penetrating what is seen, 

Perceives ' ' the things not seen, ' ' or vaguely seen ; 

And Charity, revealing more than Self, 

Or Larger Self, in fine reality — 

Demanding what is Self's by native right — 

On guard against the brutal, trick and sham — 

In loving Neighbor Self as Self Itself — 

In trying hard to bring the State, in which 

The Self loves Other Selves, forgetting Self! . . . 

Did all these powers of the Self Old Joe 

Possess, as well as did Old Uncle Dave 

And Yallah Steve and Niggah George — as well 

As did Our Subject? — Never saw Old Joe 

The mare, whose trampling feet he thought would hurt 

His Charge, without an ugly look, and when 



16 AWAKENINGS 

Appeared the man who rode her, then Old Joe 

"Would deeply growl a growl, with flashing teeth, 

His whole expression, as it comes to me, 

That of a singer of The Hymn of Hate — 

Those teeth which reached not jugular of mare 

At random ! — And is not the Reason back 

Of any action of a purpose fixed? — 

Old Joe as surely sent his teeth to spot 

Directly as Our Subject sent his fist 

To bully's nose, in case already sung. 

And worked the muscles of his mighty frame, 

To bring his victim to her knees, her nose, 

Her side, as purposefully as did he, 

"Who, in the ancient story, floored the bull ! — 

And once, Our Subject trapped in thorny hedge, 

Old Joe, unable him to extricate, 

"Was off, at once, and back with Niggah George! — 

And, once, Our Subject by his enemies 

Close pressed, Old Joe was to him, with a stone 

In mouth, to throw — a stone selected well! — 

And, once . . . But where Intelligence has end 

And Reason has beginning, who can tell? 

Where Reason to Imagination yields? — 

But say : ' ' The cattle through the garden fence ! * ' 

And Joe was up, away — to drive them out, 

But: "Beefsteak!" utter, he would crouch and slink- 

A beefsteak having once purloined, he felt 

Thereafter, pricking conscience, crushing shame, 

In painful circumstances duly framed ! — 

And where Imagination's all supreme — 

In Where of Dreams — he had experience 

Of disappointment keen, desire fulfilled, 

As certainly as ever Self! — (A note 

To be retouched before the epic ends) — 

And is not Faith essential to the Self, 

As is Intelligence, or Reason, or 

Imagination — consciously or no? — 

Old Joe's reliance on Himself was such, 

That any single foe was joy, that all 

Vertundenten were welcome, small and great, 



AWAKENINGS 17 

Which he could count — and he could count ! — 

And not to be avoided, saving when 

Avoidance possible without a flunk ! — 

In others ? — Grave had been the conflict, wounds 

So sore, recourse was needed to the knife, 

So deep, that anaesthetic must be used, 

Which he resented, till his master spake, 

And caught his eye, and reached a hand. 

The palm upturned. In it Joe laid his snout, 

Received the cone, and soon was lost to all ! — 

In God? — Does man confide in God Abstract? — 

For man must not the Incarnation be? — 

At least, the Prophet by the Abstract sent? — 

Was not beloved master God to Joe, 

As Jesus was to doubting Didymus? — • 

The lesser with the greater to compare — 

Not that comparison may be with God. . . . 

Again: Can mind in any Subject be 

In action long to end desired, without 

The often weary, yet unyielding Hope? — 

'Twas more than bravery — 'twas more than grit — 

'Twas more than set determination grim — 

'Twas more than faithfulness to task ascribed — 

'Twas more than pure devotion to his Charge — 

As nobly splendid as these factors were — 

Which made Old Joe a hero, more than once — 

Fit comrade, in the Freer Life to Come, 

For the Pompeian Dog, whose collar bore 

Inscription to effect, that he had thrice 

His little master saved — from water once, 

And once from robbers, once again from fire — 

The little master whom he could not save 

From horrid belchings of Vesuvius ! — 

But whom he would not leave himself to save ! — 

And what was this but simple, deathless Hope ? — 

The Hope, which, through the hunger and the thirst, 

Sustained him while he watched the worthless trap, 

His Charge, now come to be a thoughtless lad. 

Directed him to keep in safety, till 

Relieved — forgetting him a day and night — 



18 AWAKENINGS 

The Hope impelling him, as, through the dale, 
Filled to the brim — to overflowing filled — 
By mellow light of harvest-moon at full, 
Headed to where, among the flooded hills, 
His lady-love might be awaiting him ! — 
The Hope protracting many battles hard, 
'Gainst odds, till his the victory complete! — 
The Hope . . . His friend through his embodiment- 
Did she desert him when the time was come 
To crawl to lonely thicket, where his form 
Was found by Niggah George, to leave him there ?-- 
Or may it be that Here her work for Joe 
Was done, to be resumed for him Beyond? — 
There coming to him, in the thicket's depths, 
The Verities of the Eternities, 
More intimately through escorting Death — 
'Tween whom and him a long acquaintanceship ! — ■ 
Beyond a doubt ! — The master was away 
From home when he, the master, full of health, 
His Call received — in deepest watch of night, 
The family apprised by howling Joe — 
With proven temporal exactitude! — 
And, afterwards, at points habitual — 
In den, in sitting- or in dining-room, 
He acted — ears alert, and tail awag. 
And eyes af ull of love and reverence — 
As he had ever done, the master met ! , . . 

Profound is what is called Self -consciousness ! — : 
In knowing Self, Our Subject knew Himself 
In acts of Memory, Intelligence, 
Of Thought, of Eeasoning, Imagining; 
And having Faith, of object he aware, 
And of Himself as exercising Faith ! — 
He, loving, minded object of his Love, 
Perceiving 'twas Himself was loving her, 
Or him, or it, or them, or Sentient All ! — 
He, hating, frowned the object of his Hate, 
And sensed Himself as hating, more or less! — - 
He feared; o'erestimating object feared, 



AWAKENINGS 19 

In recognizing 'twas Himself disturbed! . . . 

How much of which was true of Uncle Dave, 

Of Yallah Steve, of Niggah George, of Joe ? 

Admitting that in Joe one element 

Was lacking — that the element of Fear — 

And not because Imagination lacked 

In him. — 'Twas great — as shown where it is pure — 

To strike a note which was, in passing, touched — 

In Dreams — in which he'd growl, in battle grim — 

He'd yelp, in the excitement of the chase — 

He'd manifest the yearning of his Love — 

Delight he'd whimper, in appeased desire — 

He'd lick the master's hand submissively, 

The master's body deep and long in earth — 

He'd, waking, evidence he knew he'd dreamed, 

Distinctly as could silly smile on lips 

Of Uncle Dave, of Yallah Steve, of Niggah George ! — 

And if Self -consciousness was Joe's in one 

Particular, why not in others, too? . . . 

The Self of Uncle Dave — it went away 

In jubilating Confidence in God ; 

The Self of Yallah Steve — departure took 

In silence of his crude philosophy ; 

The Self of Niggah George — his blackness left 

In later battle of the Civil War — 

He uniformed, and — vaguely feeling that 

He sacrifice was making for his race? — 

The Self of Joe — as I have grieving sung — 

The flesh abandoned in a lonely copse, 

To which he'd crawled. — Alone? — Is not the One 

With falling sparrow yours, and mine, and Joe's? . . . 

Less good a Self than that of Uncle Dave — 
Less honest than the Self of Yallah Steve — 
Less brave than was the Self of Niggah George — 
Less loyal than the Self of dear Old Joe — 
Our Subject's Self — still in the body, Here — 
Is waiting — not o'er anxiously — the Change, 
And wondering if pious Uncle Dave, 



20 IN ATHENS 

And better-than-appearing Yallah Steve, 

And all-to-be-forggiven Niggah George, 

And the-perfection-of -devotion Joe, 

May welcome him to Fourth-Dimension- World, 

When he awakens, rises, finally. 

To what is There in store for him and All ! 



IN ATHENS. . . . 



In Athens, all hearts were astagger with fright. 

All lips were aparted, all faces were white — 

In Athens, grim Pestilence stalked through the streets. 

And knocked at the doors of the houses, retreats — 

In Athens, the temples were vacant and bare — 

In Athens, the gods, they no longer were there. 

Or careless, as cold as the marble which kept 

Their features in mind, or were dead, or they slept — 

In Athens, contempt for the gods which were known — 

In Athens, respect for traditions was flown, 

Though still Superstition degraded, enthralled — 

In Athens, the sheep of the region were called, 

About they were led, that wherever one might 

Lie down, in a valley, on terrace, on height, 

An altar should rise to A Being Unknown — 

In Athens, was hope in such Being alone. . . , 

In Athens — ^the Seat of the Learning of Then — 

Long centuries later, were visiting men. 

With itching of ears for the ** thing" which was '*new,'* 

And men who were knowing, or thought that they knew. 

Or wanting their vanity tickled by those 

Who flatter the one who asserts that he knows. . . . 

In Athens, appearing a wandering Jew, 

With something to utter, attention he drew. 

Inhabitants anxious, the ** strangers" as well, 

To hear what ''this babbler" was wanting to tell. . . . 

In Athens, he speaking, as everywhere. 



IN ATHENS 21 

In synagogue, mart, to those '* meeting him'* there, 

To Court Areopagus leading the way, 

They, laughingly, stood, to hear what he would **say. 






In Athens, in history, never a mark 

Of those who were having this "bit of a lark," 

With this little way-weary member of race, 

"Which had in respect not a shadow of place — ■ 

Of those who assured him they'd "hear" him "again," 

"This matter" advancing, not stating the when — 

E'en names of the "certain" who "unto him clave" 

Long lost in the depths of Oblivion's grave. 

Excepting but Damaris, maiden of grace. 

And one leaving some Areopagan trace — ■ 

Eemembered not more than their namings, or less 

Than you of the dent which in water you press ; 

But looming more grandly, perspectively, aye, 

As ages on ages move slowly away, 

His form, on the Mountain eternal of Mars, 

In calm, in the storm, 'neath the sun or the stars, 

He saying — the Little One, splendidly great ! — 

His eyes on tormentors, who mockingly prate, 

With laughter, outpouring their venomous spleen ; 

"In walking your streets, I an altar have seen, 

"Inscribed to a Being remaining Unknown, 

* * Though glimpses of Him in your poets have shown, 

"And 'haply,' 'felt after,' by others 'found,' too: 

"Him, Risen One through, I declare unto you!" . . . 

A Rising, I ask, could it possibly be 

Dimensions of matter confined to the three, 

To which there 's a coming, a moment to stay^ 

Part conscious, in looking to going away? — • 

How many dimensions? — Seemingly four! — 

The Fourth but an entrance to numberless more? 



lot 7i» 



HOPE UNDEFERRED 
AND TWO OTHER POEMS 

By 

The Rev. Charles Josiah Adams, D.D. 

Some comments, among many: 

From a young lady : "Doctor Adams : A young man called 
upon me. I showed him your Hope Undeferred. He was lost 
to me till he had read every word of it! Think of that! He's 
a Yale man — a mathematician. He believes, with you, in the 
Fonrth Dimension of matter." 

From Bishop Greer: "My dear Doctor Adams: . . , 
You seem to have the gift!" 

From the Rev. Dr. George R. Van De Water: "My dear 
Doctor Adams : . . . Whatever he the elements which com- 
bine to produce the poet, they have found lodgment in your 
heart and brain. . . ." 

From Archdeacon George F. Nelson: "My dear Doctor 
Adams: . . . Pray accept my congratulations in view of 
your poetic fancy and power of expression. . , , Your 
gift is certainly a rare one. . . ." 

From the Rev. Stephen H. Granberry: "My dear Doctor 
Adams: . . . Their virility, exceptional range of poetic 
imagination, and an outgoing sympathy for all organic life, 
more particularly that of the dog, suggest themselves as 
characterizing the poems. . . ." 

From the Rev. Dr. Junius B. Remensnyder: "My dear 
Doctor Adamjs : . . . The poems are real poetry, with mar- 
velous aptitude in getting the right word, and in unbroken 
music of sound. The philosophy is profound, suggestive, and 
instructive. . . ." 

Hope Undeferred is a booklet of 24 pages, attractively 
printed on high-grade book paper, and bound in blue cloth- 
of-gold paper cover. Price, sent by mail, postpaid, 25 cents. 



J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

57 ROSE STREET NEW YORK 



Where Is My Dog? 

BY THE REV. CHARLES JOSIAH ADAMS, D.D. 
12mo. vol. 200 pages. Cloth bound. Price, $1.00 Postpaid. 

This book should be read by everyone. Its primary 
object is to call attention to the lower animals — out of 
which attention, kindliness of treatment of them is 
sure to come. No one who has the power of loving 
has ever attentively studied the lower animals and 
afterwards been unkind to them. 

There is heart in the whole work. Staring" one in 
the face in every sentence of the book are two ques- 
tions : 1. Is Man Immortal? 2. Is the Lower Animal 
Immortal? These questions are handled in a remark- 
ably clean and philosophical manner, and Mr. Adams 
has certainly focused a flood of light upon them. 

Some Comments. 

**I really feel under deep obligations to you for your true, 
forceful words in behalf of man's best friend, the dog." 

Eugene Field. 



"It may give you considerable standing among the angels, also, 
for I have always thought of them as interested, much like the 
children, in dogs. 

"But I observe that their reflections are all about 'Your Side* 
of things. Let me say I enjoyed the book. It is well written, 
shows great observational faculty and good literary skill and 
taste." Allen H. Norcross, D.D. 



"Let me say, that, if your book is not already considered a 
classic in the literature pertaining to that most magnanimous of 
God's creatures, the dog, it ought speedily to take that rank, and 
I want to thank you most heartily for the pleasure that the 
reading of 'Where Is My Dog?' has afforded me." 

Hiram Howard. 



"It is fully in line with the best work of the writers on dumb 
animals and kindness to them, and it should take a place beside 
'Black Beauty* in the library of every home where there are 
domestic pets." Phebe A. Hanaforb. 

Sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of Price, $1.00. 

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
57 Rose Street, New York, 










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